


Inferno

by Falafel_Waffel



Category: Hunger Games (2012), Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Firefighters, Philadelphia, Police
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-04 18:14:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falafel_Waffel/pseuds/Falafel_Waffel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a string of suspicious fires strike Philadelphia, Officer Peeta Mellark wants to do anything in his power to keep the grey eyed whacker that caught his eyes safe from harm, but what's a blue canary to do besides watch her run into the inferno without hesitation?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [ ](http://s1179.beta.photobucket.com/user/rosalinabambina/media/Inferno-banner_FalafelWaffel_zpsacd9ad41.jpg.html)
> 
> So this is what I’m doing instead of working on my other WiP’s lolololololol
> 
> I’ve written the entire thing except for like two or three scenes so it’ll be less of a wait than some of my other fics. 
> 
> Thank you Chelzie for polishing it up and Sassyeverlarking and Fairmellarky for letting me bounce ideas off you two.
> 
> And Ro Nordmann for yet another awesome banner.

I’ll never forget my first dead body. Even years later, the smell has completely put me off of roast pork. It’s a smell that cuts through the ashy, smokiness of a house fire and sinks straight down to your stomach. Some who recognize the  _bouquet_  of human flesh vomit knowing what they’re looking for, a crispy critter. I learned on my first day as a firefighter that there was one thing you can do in a burning building when you spill your guts.

Chow down.

“Fire department! Is anyone in here?” Gale calls ahead of me while I swing my arm around trying to cut through the black smoke and poke at something that needs to be brought out before this building is brought down. “Mother fucker, I hate fucking tot finders!”

By law, we have to check every room with a tot finder sticker on them. Unfortunately in these old North Philly row homes, people tend to stick them on every fucking window making our search twice as long. The only thing worse than tot finders are pet finders, especially when said pet is a python that needs to be carried out.

My prybar pokes at something soft. “Hawthorne!” I call, tugging at his pant leg. On my hands and knees, I crawl from the wall, keeping as close to Gale as possible until I have to let go of him and he holds onto my leg. “Found that woman’s kid!” I call back before reaching up to the call button on my SCBA. “Found one in the third floor bedroom, Hawthorne and I are bringing him down.”

Even through layers of turn-out gear, I can feel the heat. This house is a cluttered mess, a hoarder’s wet dream; with our luck, it’ll flash over at any moment.

The good thing is that going downstairs is a hundred times easier than it is to go up even with an unconscious human in your arms. Well, I have his legs, Gale has the torso and with both our low pressure bells going off, we hurry.

One of the few things I hate about Philadelphia is how every summer North Philadelphia seems to spontaneously combust. We can’t even chalk it up to people being excited about sports with the Phillies on the downturn, the Eagles being the Eagles, and don’t even get me started about the Flyers. Who the fuck loses to the goddamn Devils? But, I digress.

Gale and I hand our would-be crispy critter off to the paramedics before getting hosed off so we can safely take off our gear. We barely get our masks off before the street lights up and everything in the row home ignites all at once.

Our mission to salvage the home is now a mission to contain it, especially as the structure gives way and where Gale and I were only minutes before becomes a pile of fiery rubble.

“Fuck, man…” I sigh, tugging down my nomex hood. “We were just fucking in there.”

“Fucking tot finders, man. At least we didn’t have to bring down a fucking python…”

“That python bit me,” I remind Gale, taking off my soaked gloves after setting down my air pack.

I pull my braids out of my nomex hood, which are soaked with sweat. “Ugh, I can always count on North Philly in June to get me out of a shitty date…” I wring some of the sweat out of my hair. “He wanted to take me to Shampoo.”

Gale makes a face. “Right? Apparently, twenty-five isn’t too old,” I say as he goes pale. “What? Is there something on my face?”

He reaches over and pulls a syringe out of my hip. I never felt it go in so there was a chance it just stayed in my gear or got caught in my shorts. Needle pricks in these buildings were common, so common that almost half of us have or have had a hepatitis-C infection. I’m one in that statistic, nearing the end of my treatment. Condemned buildings were basically heroin holes and hep traps.

* * *

_Peeta_

“Sir, do you know why we pulled you over?” Finnick asks.

“’Cause ya pigs ain’t got nuttin’ better to do than waste my damn time,” I shake my head, trying not to laugh.

“No, sir, though we were getting pretty bored. My partner here is shit at the license plate game. Sir, I know it’s I-95 but the speed limit isn’t 95; I timed you going ninety in a 65.”

The man sighs and his hand leaves the steering wheel for the third time on the stop. “Sir! Both hands on the wheel; I will not ask you again!” I caution, my hand reaching for my glock. “You mother fuckers always wasting my time. I got places to go and shit to do! Just write your mother fucking ticket and go pull over some white bitch,” I can see the man shaking his head through the window, “Racist mother fuckers…”

Finnick nods his head back towards the car once he finally gets the driver’s paperwork. “Racist mother fucker,” I tease while writing up the ticket. “VASCAR doesn’t care if you’re white, black, or purple.”

“Last time I saw someone purple in the face, he was loaded on PCP,” Finnick sighs. “Oh, come on… hope your running shoes are on,” Finnick groans as the front door of the car opens and our boring traffic stop becomes exciting. “Guess he knows he has a warrant out for him.”

For his size, our guy actually makes it about 100 yards before I catch up with him and tackle him to the ground. “What’s next? A stroll on 76 at rush hour?” I ask while easing up a little to put my cuffs on him. “We’ve got a warrant for your arrest, my friend, but I guess you knew that since you decided to run!”

Most of our work is actually paperwork, arrest reports, tickets, and other flavors of reports. When Finnick and I drop our guy off and head out into the summer heat, we’re greeted by another unfortunate duty of ours.

Crowd control.

“God bless North East Philly. Fuckers will try their hardest to burn the whole place down…” Finnick groans after I tell dispatch we’re responding since we’re technically in the area.

“We get to see my favorite type of people,” I joke, “The whackers.”

“Takes a real dumb person to run into a burning building, man…” Fortunately or unfortunately, Finnick and I get there just in time to see about the smallest firefighter either of us have ever seen and one of the tallest carry a burned body out of the building and get hosed down. The short guy turns his back to me as the building flashes over. In the bright light of the flames, I can read his last name and company. _Everdeen, Engine 29_. A loud creak fills the air as the third floor falls into the second and sends the building down like a house of cards, putting out most of the flames.

Whackers are a special breed of stupid. They run into condemned structures that are bound to collapse just because of a sticker on the window from the last century. They pull out charred remains like it’s their job and at times come out of buildings looking like porcupines with the discarded syringes in their gear.

“Whoa, game changer. Pint sized is a chick.”

See, Finnick wouldn’t normally point out a woman unless her tits were out, but seeing a female firefighter was like seeing a unicorn. She has a pink ring around her face where her mask clung to her skin and she’s soaked from head to toe in sweat.

She strips out of her soaked gear for the most part to let herself dry, a common practice when one company lets another take over. She’s in a bright red halter top and khaki shorts; definitely not Philadelphia Fire Department uniform, but with her tan muscular legs, I’m not going to complain.

“You should ask her out,” Finnick suggests. “Instead of eye banging her.”

My cheeks grow hot. “I’m not… yeah, how do I start that? ‘I liked how you stripped out of your gear, want to get dinner once you’ve showered?’”

The companies start leaving one by one once the fire is out and the investigators are here. Then I see it, a tiny brown glove in the road.

Everdeen, K., E 29

“We’re making a pit stop,” I tell Finnick when we get back in the cruiser, “400 West Girard.” Our shift is almost over, but I genuinely want to get this girl her glove back. Most of the guys in the fire department are big burly men, and I doubt they have extra small size gloves lying around for her.

The entire department is sitting on the driveway with a flat screen on a milk crate, yelling at the Phillies.

“Whoa, it’s the boys in blue. Hawthorne, you get caught under the bridge in Kensington again?”

“Screw you, Thom.”

Finnick grabs the glove from my hands. “We’re looking for the short shit that owns this.”

“Oh, you mean Katniss. She’s getting changed, one sec…” the tall guy I saw with Katniss stands up with his beer. “Yo, Katniss!” A few seconds later, the dark haired woman pokes her head out.

“The Phils winning?” she asks.

“Nah, you got some gentleman callers, though. Came in uniform and everything. You must have pissed someone off.”

She comes down a few minutes later in a grey Philadelphia Fire Department shirt and baggy sweat shorts, chewing pink bubblegum. “Whatever it was, it was some other Katniss Everdeen, officers.”

“We found this at the fire today,” Finnick says, handing off the glove. “And my partner wanted to-“

“Continue to  _eye bang_ me?” My skin grows cold. “I got ears, Officer Mellark, damn good ones,” she says, snapping her bubble gum. “I don’t do frilly or fancy. You free tomorrow night? I don’t have to be here babysitting these assholes tomorrow.”

My mouth goes dry. “Y-yeah?”

“Cool, pick me up at seven. I live in the building on the corner of Third and Brown in NoLibs. And don’t bring the fucking police car. I don’t normally go for the blue canaries, but you’re kind of cute.”

Katniss isn’t shy, or at least in this moment, she’s bold. She reaches into my belt and pulls out my pen and memo pad before scribbling something down.

It’s her name and phone number. She doesn’t include the area code making me guess between 215 and 267, though 90% of Philly is in the 215 area. At the bottom of the paper, there’s a message.

_If you thought me taking off my TOG was hot, just wait and see._

 “See you tomorrow, Officer Mellark!” And she saunters back into the fire station, leaving me dumbfounded.

“Call me if the Phills actually get a guy on base!” I hear her shout as we get back in the cruiser.

“Dude, what the fuck was that?” I ask, staring at the paper.

“Peeta, just shut up! You might actually get laid tomorrow, did you see her ass?”

Honestly, the only things I can remember about Katniss are her two sweaty braids, how her cheeks flushed from the exertion at the fire today, and her stormy grey eyes. “Did you see those eyes?” I ask.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s1179.photobucket.com/user/rosalinabambina/media/Inferno-banner_FalafelWaffel_zpsacd9ad41.jpg.html)
> 
> Thank you Ro Nordmann for the banner!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So maybe I should not hold onto a chapter for like two days because I forgot to update. 
> 
> XD
> 
> Thank you Chelzie for polishing this up and Fairmellarky and Sassyeverlarking for helping my skattered brain get this fic down. 
> 
> I don’t know when the next update will be. I’ve sent the entire fic minus the unwritten epilogue to Chelzie and we’ll see how it goes.

_Katniss_

“Wait, you what?”

I pace around the apartment. What the fuck have I gotten myself into? Who was that talking to Officer Mellark?

“I just… he was talking on scene and he’s  _really_  cute. Like still has all his hair, and he’s muscular, and oh God, his eyes, Prim,” I continue, padding around the apartment. “And I just let my mouth run on auto pilot, but I have no idea where I grew those balls. Like… fuck.”

“Are you going to sleep with him?” Prim asks from her spot on the couch. I have three hours until my date, if it was a date.

“No. God, no! I’m diseased.”

“Katniss, you have Hep-C, not the clap. The chances of transmitting it sexually are so low, it’s…” I give her the death stare. “Fine, fine. But you should let him touch your tits, you know, see what he’s working with.”

I press the heels of my hands into my eyes. “Oh my fuck, Prim, just help me get dressed!” I was at the station overnight, so I’m still in my BDU pants and navy t-shirt. I haven’t even taken off my black combat boots or the pager on my belt.

I turn the device off and toss it onto the coffee table.

Prim knows what I will and won’t wear, so I should be thankful that she’s even bothering. It’s not that I can’t dress myself, but I’m a jeans and a t-shirt kind of girl and I authentically want to impress this guy. I do enjoy a dress or a skirt every now and then, but for the most part, I’m most at home in something I can move freely in.

“A jump suit?” she asks from inside the closet. “No… Is it still like 95 degrees out?”

I nod. “Yeah,” I tell her while stripping out of my uniform.

“Alright… do you know where you’re going?”

“Prim, you do remember that I told him I don’t do frilly or fancy.”

She comes out with two hangers and much to my dismay, one is a dress. “Don’t freak because I really like this dress on you. And don’t wear it into a burning building for fuck’s sake,” she says, holding it up to me. “And I’ll even let you wear your combat boots.”

I can’t wear a bra with the dress. The tiny little straps and completely open back wouldn’t hide anything. Luckily though, the red fabric covered with the images of puffy white flowers comes down to my knees so I can at least hide some of my modesty.

“Make sure you bring a jacket,” Prim teases before heading back to the couch. She has one night off a week and is planning on spending it right there.

—-

Officer Mellark, or Peeta, as he introduces himself when Prim answers the buzzer, is five minutes early. “How do I look?” I ask Prim.

“Like a hipster princess,” Prim tells me from the couch.

I roll my eyes and check to be sure that everything I need is in my purse. Pepper spray? Check. Cell phone? Check. Wallet? Check. SEPTA Tokens? Check. Cigarettes and lighter? Check. I shove my pager in there just for my own comfort. “Please…I lived in NoLibs before the fucking hipsters moved in.”

“That’s just what a hipster would say!” I head out the door and down the stairs. The stairwell isn’t heated or air-conditioned so in this record-breaking heat wave, the two flights of stairs down to street level soak me with sweat.

“Great, I’m going to be a sweaty pig before I even get out the door…” I grumble. The double doors creak open from lack of maintenance. “Hey there, stranger,” I greet when I see my date leaning against the wall, taking a drag from a Marlboro.

“Wait, isn’t that hypocritical? Aren’t you the type that steers innocent youths away from the vices we adults love so much?” I ask while pulling a cig out of my purse and tapping it against the heel of my hand.

“Yeah, get shot at once and tell me if you don’t burn through half a pack. You?”

“Light?” I ask. He pulls a Bic out of the front pocket of his dark jeans. He took the same road as me, borderline between not dressy and dressy. Unfortunately, the way he fills out the black t-shirt under his dark green button up shirt makes me feel hideous in comparison. I instantly feel better after the first hit. “Running into a burning building will do the same…”

“So how long have you been in Philly?” Peeta asks after a moment or two of silence.

“My whole life. Yourself?”

Peeta shrugs, “Since I was twenty one and got out of the Academy. I’m originally from Bucks County.”

“Ah…” I start flicking away ash, “Yuppies and suburban folk? I get to mingle with them on Monday for some re-certs. Inverted ladder slides, and high angle rescue…” I take another drag, “So how old are you?”

“Twenty-seven last March.”

I nod slowly. “Six years…. so in a few months, I might be able to consider you a Philadelphian.”

Peeta takes my free hand. “Sure. Come on. There was no parking on your street so I’m like a block away.”

“Where are you taking me?” I ask with a hint of nervousness in my voice, “Because I don’t leave the city limits very easily.”

Peeta grins. “Don’t worry.  You didn’t give me much to go on, so I’m going to take you to two of my favorite parts of the city.”

We round the corner. “Wait, I did this wrong,” he says, stopping dead in his tracks. Peeta turns himself to face me, “Katniss, you look wonderful tonight,” he says before kissing my knuckles, “Though I was under the impression you didn’t do girly.”

I lift one foot off the ground. “Combat boots, duh!” Peeta takes his hand from mine and rests it on my hip. He doesn’t do the whole hover hand bullshit, or wonder where he’s supposed to put his hands.

“I, uh… should have warned you  _not_  to wear a skirt,” he says as we approach an almost all black Harley.

I hand him my purse and feel the confidence I felt last night take over. “Guess I’m just going to have to ride even closer to you.”

He tucks my small handbag away and hands me a black helmet. “My kind of lady,” he tells me.

I sit so absolutely close to him my hip flexors start to ache as my groin presses against his backside. Sure, I’ve been with men recently, but I’ve built my up walls so high it seems like it’s been ages since I’ve been this close to another human being. I’m using the ride through the streets of Philadelphia as an excuse to get less than platonically close to Officer Mellark because I honestly just need the closeness of another human being.

“You okay back there?” he asks as we wait at a light by City Hall.

“Yeah,” I tell him. “Am I holding too tight?” I ask, suddenly hyper aware of my hands spread across his abs.

“Nah, it’s nice. Normally chicks don’t know what to do with their hands. I always get the awkward hands on the hips.”

I pull back a little, “You have women on this thing often?”

“Honestly no, women are kind of suspicious of the badge. They either think I’m taking bribes or I’m a tight ass… Or they want help getting out of a speeding or parking ticket.”

“She should sleep with someone from the PPA…”

“Yeah…” he says idly.

“So… what kind of man are you?” I ask as the turning lanes get the green arrow.

“I’m just a guy who wants to help make this city a better place,” he says as the main light turns green and the roar of the engine cuts our conversation off.

I get concerned when he rounds the corner onto South Street. From my experiences, not much good has come out of this corner of the city.

“Alright, definitely out of my comfort zone,” I tell him as he helps me off the bike and I fix my dress.

Peeta offers me his hand as I fix the top of my dress so I can avoid exposing myself on the first date. “Sorry. You’ll like it, I hope.”

This strikes me as odd; usually people finish that statement with ‘I promise’. “You don’t promise?” I ask, taking his hand.

Peeta laces his fingers with mine. “I don’t make promises I’m not positive I can keep, Everdeen.”

He takes me to a place I’ve passed hundreds of times and just accepted its existence. On the outside, the Philadelphia Magic Gardens looks like someone searched the free section of Craigslist looking for any odds and ends that would look whimsical when used to make a wall with cement, broken tiles and countless bottles.

I try to take it all in as Peeta leads me down a winding staircase flanked by faces made of jagged pieces of tile. Above us are arches made of brick and bottles; the odd casserole dish and occasional vase make the garden feel like Wonderland. Finally, we reach an open square in the garden free of people, but full of reflective tiles and tinted glass.

“Ok, any minute now,” he tells me as the sun starts to retreat for the day. It doesn’t take long for the sun to start reflecting burnt orange from a wall of broken mirror, bathing the garden in a rich orange light that catches in every bottle, every bit of mirror. The light shines through the frames of bike tires, casting intricate shadows over the whole area. Everything becomes a warm inferno, safely contained in this work of art I’ve been walking past for years.

I spin slowly, trying to see everything before the sun goes behind the buildings and this brief, magical moment is gone.

“How did you find this place?” I ask as the orange light disappears and is replaced by candles in pink tinted jars and strings of large Christmas lights that illuminate the garden.

“I used to work this district. You wouldn’t believe how often people try and rip bottles and shit off the walls and they call the cops here,” he tells me, taking my hand once more.

I finally look up at him, my cheeks growing hot under his gaze. I try and meet his eyes but I’m amazed by how the dim candlelight catches in his bright blue eyes.

He turns me a little and I think just maybe I could kiss this man. As he pulls me flush against him, I think for a second that I could chip away a few layers of my wall and let myself  _feel_  him. As his hot breath mixes with mine, we play our flirtatious game of chicken and I think that maybe it’s finally time to let someone in.

Then Peeta backs away and pulls out his cell phone. His eyes go wide as his cheeks blanch. “Fuck… I’m so sorry, I have to go. Can you get home from here?”

I back away. “What?” my voice cracks as my brain tries to process what just happened.

He’s already somewhere else in his head, and the fact that I’m offended doesn’t even register in his mind. He pats me on the shoulder twice after I snap a very cold, “Yeah,” and storm off, no matter how childish. “I’m an expert at escaping from bullshit anywhere there’s a SEPTA station.”

Peeta doesn’t call after me. Hell, I’ve already swiped myself into the subway before I realize I’m shaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any questions, comments or concerns you may contact me at deliverustogirouxsalem.tumblr.com.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s1179.photobucket.com/user/rosalinabambina/media/Inferno-banner_FalafelWaffel_zpsacd9ad41.jpg.html)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Ro Nordmann for the banner. :D
> 
>  
> 
> Remember that time… And you were there, and I wasn’t there because you were in your house or where ever you read the last chapter. 
> 
> Thank you Chelzie for polishing this up :D and to Sassyeverlarking and Fairmellarky for letting me whine to them while I was writing this fic. 
> 
> Oh, you find out why Peeta left Katniss high and dry in this chapter…. WOO!

_Katniss_

A million scenarios play through my head as to why Officer Mellark had to just up and run. Was I that intolerable? Did my breath smell? Was there another woman?

The thoughts distract me from our driveway Phillies watching. During the seventh inning stretch and about my tenth cigarette since the first pitch, Gale finally speaks up. “What’s eating you, Catnip?” he asks after I separate us from the rest of the station.

“Have you ever ditched a girl on a date? Like straight up, ‘I have to go, can you get home from here’ ditch?”

His face goes blank. “That fucking asshole,” he grumbles, “I knew he was bad news.”

I start picking at my nail beds. “I just don’t get it, Gale. We were having a good time, at least I was.” It’s kind of hypocritical of me to be this upset. Usually my dates need to be near the station that way if there’s a call on a night I know they’re short-handed, I can bolt telling the person, ‘I’ll call you’ with little to no intention of calling them back.

I look up at the man who is basically my brother, the guy who got me through training and doesn’t mind going into burning buildings with the ‘little girl’. “Gale, I actually _liked_ this guy and I fucked it up…” I sigh, taking a long drag.

Gale firmly grips both of my shoulders. “No, _he_ fucked it up and… he is walking up the driveway right now. Go…” Gale shoves me in the direction of the garage. I don’t even want to look at Peeta. Cops frequent the fire house for reports of suspicious fires and general bullshitting and from what I’ve come to understand, this is part of his beat a good chunk of the time.

“Unless you got some actual business here, man, you’d better fucking leave,” I hear Gale tell Peeta.

It’s dark and my foot catches on a pike pole. “Shit…” I grumble, scrambling to not knock over every fucking piece of equipment in the bay.

“I just have to talk to her…” Peeta tells Gale, his voice full of desperation.

“Allow me to spell it out for you. Fuck. Off.”

“Get your hands off me, man.”

I know Gale’s temper; it’s something I avoid at all costs, so with the pike pole in hand, I exit the garage. “Gale?” I ask quietly, noticing his hand is full of Peeta’s shirt. “Gale, I-I got this… Go back to watching the game,” I tell him gently.

A firefighter threatening a police officer – fuck, Gale can be an idiot sometimes.

When Gale doesn’t move, I get annoyed. “Now?” he looks from me, to Peeta, then back to me. Gale has seen me in worse spots… I think.

“You’ve got a lot of balls coming here,” I tell him, passing the pike pole from one hand to the other.

“Listen, Katniss… You have to-“ I cut him off by poking his vest with the blunt end of the yellow pole.

“Understand? Fuck you,” I spit, “You want to come here and be apologetic for ditching me in goddamn Center City? Get over yourself,” I poke him in his stomach. I actually like this man, which makes this that much harder, but I can’t open the door for him to walk all over me.

Just as Peeta goes to defend himself the bell rings, a call at the 2100 block of 8th street. “But I have to go now, duty calls,” I turn on my heels to run to my locker and don my gear, but he stops me.

“Katniss, wait, let me make it up to you.” This time, the hooked tip of the pike pole ends up dangerously close to his face. “Wait, are you threatening an officer?”

“You cocky fuck, I’m threatening the guy who ditched me in goddamn Center City with no explanation and not even a text the next morning. Now I have a call and our response time is very important to us. Also, keeping a first responder from doing his or her job is a misdemeanor or something, so go pull someone over. I have lives to save.”

When he calls after me again, I ignore him. It’s two days too late. I rack the pike pole and hurry to take off my boots and pull on my bunker gear.

He’s gone before we even pull out.

“You okay?” Gale asks as I zip up my coat.

“Yeah, how’d I do?” I ask, adjusting my nomex hood so there’s no vulnerable spots around my neck.

“Kind of wished you’d skewer him… but…”

I roll my eyes and watch the city blocks pass by. “Jail isn’t fun, from what I’ve heard.”

“Eh, you’re ugly enough to survive, plus you’re mean. You’d make someone your bitch in the first hour.”

I kick him from my seat across the cab as I watch heads turn. It’s amazing how quickly I started tuning out the sound of a siren.

* * *

_Peeta_

Finnick says nothing when I get back in the cruiser. “Man, I’m so sorry…” he finally tells me as we head to the same fire as Katniss.

“It’s okay…” I sigh, “You needed someone.”

I have to be all business by the time we get there. As Finnick and I help set up a barricade, I notice we’re not the first pair there. There’s a few other guys scattered around, trying to move the gathered crowd away.

I can’t help but watch Katniss work. I can barely see her face, but when she looks in my general direction, there’s a look of blank determination on her face. I barely know this woman but I feel like I can read her like a book. She’s on auto-pilot, performing a necessary task she’s done more times than she should have.

She screws the nozzle onto a hose and checks to be sure it’s closed before giving the thumbs up so the line can be charged. She hands the hose off to Hawthorne and pats his back before another person joins them… Thom, his jacket says.

I watch as her tiny form goes in and wait until I can no longer see the fluorescent yellow reflectors on her helmet before turning around. “Alright, back up,” Finnick says as some kid tries to get a little closer.

Even though I’ve never been inside a burning building, I know when the situation is turning from bad to good. Black smoke means that the fire is still fueling itself, but when the smoke turns white, it’s almost out. The entire building isn’t up in flames and the structure seems sound. Not very long after going in, the small group comes out.

“Alright, shut it off!” Katniss yells, now holding the nozzle. Her voice is garbled through her mask, almost robotic. “Jesus fuck, do I have to do it myself, man?”

* * *

It’s a quiet Sunday after that, nothing major. Considering the area, we’re almost shocked that there are no robberies or domestics. Nothing says ‘good night’ like breaking up a fist fight between a man and a woman while their kids are watching.

The next few weeks are quiet for the most part, except for one thing – abandoned buildings around the city have been going up in flames and at every one of them, the firefighters have reported smelling fuel.

The Arson Task Force starts probing everything, checking reports, going back to sites. It would be a non-issue if it wasn’t for the vocal task force leader, Haymitch Abernathy, bitching about the sloppiness of everyone’s work.

Finnick and I try to stay as far away from that as possible. We’re just patrol cops - what do we know about arson? That and I’m avoiding Engine 29 as much as I can. Unfortunately, since mine and Katniss’ jurisdictions intersect and the number of calls because of the arsonist along with the craziness that the heat brings, I find myself staring at the reflective lettering on her jacket more than I care to admit. At the beginning of the week if Katniss caught me keeping a watchful eye over her, she would just give me this hateful look. Now she won’t even meet my gaze; the one time she did, she just looked empty.

But I don’t think I can stop watching over her. Every night since I first met her, I’ve had this dream where she’s lost in an inferno, searching for an exit before her air runs out. I try to shake the image while I’m awake, but the second I see her heading into a burning building, that’s it. I’m a nervous wreck.

I barely know this woman, and even if it’s a false alarm, seeing her in her turn out gear heading anywhere sends me into a panic.

Fuck, I wish she’d just let me explain things without swinging a six foot spiked pole in my direction.

* * *

Three weeks later, the heat wave finally breaks; muggy days are followed by cool nights and crisp mornings. September is a strange time in Philadelphia. Deep in the city where next to no breeze comes across the Delaware, it’s still unpleasant during the day but the second night hits, it’s a cruel reminder that winter is coming very slowly.

“Windshield’s fogging up again,” Finnick tells me. It’s about an hour before morning rush begins and we’re already on highway patrol, because with the break in heat comes a break in the crime rate.

I flick on the defroster. “So, how’s Annie?” I ask.

“Coming home next week. I’m nervous; they think she’ll need a nurse,” he sighs, “Fucking drunk drivers, man… Sun wasn’t even down,” Finnick says, punching the dash.

I look out the window and watch as a black Jeep comes speeding down a straight portion of the highway, “Oh, here we go…”

As the driver passes through the speed trap, we clock her going 79. “After this, I want breakfast. Or dinner, or whatever it is,” Finnick tells me.

“It’s six thirty, it’s whatever you want it to be.”

These overnight shifts are starting to get to me, but it’s easier to distract myself after my nightmares if I sleep while the sun is up.

“Ten bucks says I get yelled at,” I tell Finnick.

“How about you just buy me breakfast,” he jokes as we get out of the cruiser.

Finnick and I both touch the back of the car - in case one of us goes down, it’s an easy way to tie the driver to the incident. Either way, there is no such thing as a routine traffic stop. A 110 pound blonde girl can pull a gun without warning, just like the three hundred pound guy with gang tattoos can be the most understanding speeder in the world. The only thing I can almost guarantee is that a mini-van driven by a suburban soccer mom will bring nothing but headaches.

I tap on the glass but almost fall over when I see who is in the driver’s seat. “You’ve been waiting for this one for a month, haven’t you?” Katniss sighs, handing me her driver’s license, registration and insurance card. 

Something stirs in me. Normally, I can treat traffic stops like nothing. Watch for wandering hands and any sudden movements, ignore the yelling, write the ticket and go about my life. Now I feel disappointed that Katniss would drive recklessly, almost betrayed that she’d be so indifferent towards her own safety. I know I shouldn’t be surprised; this is the same woman who will run into a burning building no questions asked.

“Officer Mellark?” she asks.

I blink away my disappointment. “Sorry, do you know how fast you were going?”

Katniss sighs, “Fast enough that you had to pull me over. But I’m late for my hazmat ops test, or hazmat tech, which starts at seven fifteen in Doylestown.”

“Sounds painful. I’ll be quick,” I reply, barely clearing her bumper before hearing her forehead thump against the steering wheel.

“Good thing the dashboard camera was never switched on,” Finnick sighs. “Just run her shit, she’ll be probably be clear and you can let her go.”

It’s unprofessional, but I do just that. The woman’s never even had a five over in her life.

Instead of writing a ticket, I pull out my memo pad.

_Katniss,_

_I doubt you want to hear this, but I can’t get you out of my mind. I need to explain what happened last month just so we can part on good terms. I know I don’t deserve it considering how I left you, but you have to believe that I had a good reason for doing it. On the back is my address and phone number. Drop in any time or call/text._

I sign my name and head back to Katniss’ car. “Here, good luck on your test, Miss Everdeen. Drive safe,” I say, handing over the note before hurrying back to the cruiser. “Just drive,” I tell Finnick, “I need a fucking coffee.”

It takes another three days before I hear back from Katniss. By then, it’s already feeling like fall and I know I’m going to have to lock my Harley up for the winter soon.

She calls on my day off, just after eleven. “Hi, is this Peeta?” she asks cautiously.

I nod even though she can’t see me. “Yeah, how are you doing today, Katniss?”

“Fine, fine. We had another strange call today. I’m still trying to cool off,” she laughs nervously. Besides the destruction of property, the major risk with going into accelerated fires is that they burn hot, like insanely hot, dangerously so.

The accelerant used seems to be a lethal mix of gasoline and occasionally acetone. It burns hot, spreads quickly and has already claimed three lives and injured ten. “Do you want to come over? It might be easier to talk face to face.”

Katniss hesitates, “Sure. I’m at the station right now, but I get off at three.”

“Want me to pick you up there? As long as you don’t plan on swinging an axe at me...”

Katniss chuckles, “No, I don’t… Gale, Thom, and Bristel might though.”

“I’ll watch my back. See you at three.”

“Yeah, drive safe,” she teases before hanging up. I can’t tell whether it’s a joke or if she honestly cares about my safety.

When my phone locks after the call, I set it down on the kitchen counter and look around at my messy house.

Clean uniforms cover the beat up leather sofa, but they’re under a huge pile of my underwear and undershirts, which is under an even larger pile of street clothes. I throw my work belt on the counter, as it’s the first step to cleaning this place up. I’ve given up on being responsible enough to do dishes three years ago, only bringing out actual plates the few times I have guests over. I don’t have a lot of things, just a lot of clothes and a lot of empty hangers. Once my closet is full again, the room looks almost inviting, in that dated 90’s living room sort of way.

Two thirty comes slowly; right before I leave to pick up Katniss, I light a candle so my house will stop smelling like stale cigarette smoke and the lingering, musky smell of my sloppiness.

There’s an unmarked cop car waiting for me when I hit the street and light up. “Good afternoon…” I greet when the driver gets out.

“Detective, technically. I’m Detective Abernathy. I wanted to ask you a few questions. You were one of the officers on scene for several of the suspicious fires in August and now September.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “And am I a suspect, detective?”

He shrugs, “Nah. I just needed to drop this off. It’s a few reports and several crime scene pictures. Just look at it and get back to me in the morning about any repeat witnesses you can think of.” He pulls a large manila folder out of his coat. “I look forward to working with you, boy.”

“Wait… What?” I ask, holding the file.

“Lieutenant Thread gave you and your talkative partner to me for the duration of this case. Congrats on your promotion. I take my coffee black with one Splenda.”

“Motherfucker…” I sigh, watching him drive off.

I check my watch one last time after dumping the file inside the house and head to Katniss’ fire station.

The first person I meet there is a loud woman with cropped black hair, standing on the top of one of the fire engines. “I’m queen of the mountain, bitches! Get me a ladder truck. I’ll get on top of the bangor ladder and I’ll be the queen of fucking Philly!” Her bright eyes find me, “Katniss! That blondie you threatened with the pike pole is here!”

“Bris, get the fuck down. Come with me, blondie, before Hawthorne gets you with an axe…” another woman tells me, leading me up a flight of stairs where there’s one office and a row of pictures of chiefs that have sat in that office. The second to last one is Chief Patrick Everdeen, who left his position close to three years ago. “I’m Johanna, by the way; or Josie, or Jo.”

“Nice to meet you. Is that Katniss’ father?” I ask, pointing up at the picture.

Johanna frowns. “Yeah, he’s no longer with us… It was a hard time for the crew…”

“Shut up, Jo. Stop talking about my Daddy like he’s dead. He just moved to Florida with my Mom when her arthritis got bad. They visited for the fourth; you were there, I was there,” Katniss says, coming down a spiral staircase in a white t-shirt, jeans and knee high boots. Her right wrist is wrapped tightly in white gauze and medical tape.

“But he took Thursday night poker and your mom’s butter cake with him!”

Katniss rolls her eyes. “I’ll bring you Stocks pound cake some day if you learn to actually put safeties on your bowlines.”

Johanna waves at her dismissively, “Whatever, go do your walk of shame with your cute little cop and his nice ass and-“

Katniss shrinks back a little and Johanna notices it, taking pity on the smaller girl. “I’m going to go downstairs…” she says calmly, “Have a cigarette.”

We know Katniss is gone when we can barely hear the click of her heels and Johanna sighs. “I don’t know what she’s ashamed of. No harm in dating,” she says, patting my shoulder twice. “Now listen, blue canary… is it okay if I call you that?” she asks.

Blue Canary is derived from canary in a coal mine, meaning that cops will run into hazardous situations like gas leaks and either die or go unconscious. “Not really…” I tell her.

“Well, that sucks. But listen, canary, you hurt her and I’ll turn you into a eunuch with a fire axe. Ya get me?” she tells me while her strong fingers dig into my shoulder.

“I get you…” I answer, but she squeezes harder. “I said I get you. Jesus fuck,” I jerk away and head after Katniss, who is rocking back and forth on her heels with a Camel between her pale lips.

“Ready?” I ask her as she tucks her cell phone into her front pocket. She doesn’t say anything but hands me her purple Bic.

“Join me for a smoke, and sorry about Johanna. She’s kind of…”

“Infuriatingly blunt, but protective of you?”

“Yeah…” Katniss whispers before taking a step closer to me and linking her free hand with mine.

On the way back to my place she rides just as close as before, her small hands firmly on my stomach. As we approach Mayfair, my jeans get a little tight in the crotch but I don’t think she notices. By the time I pull into the alley behind my house to put the bike in the garage and retire her for a few months, my awkward erection is gone. But I still can’t shake the desire to throw her down on the cool cement floor and peel her out of those jeans so I can fuck her until neither of us can walk straight.

Finnick is right, she has an amazing ass which is only improved upon by her muscular legs. “Jeez, and I thought you were done eye banging me in August,” she teases after catching me. Here I think she’s angry, but as she hands me her helmet, she’s smiling.

“Sorry, it’s those heels, sweetheart,” I tell her honestly. “It turns a ten into a fifteen.”

“Thanks. The guy I went out with last night didn’t think so…” she sighs before taking my hand again and leaning into me.

 _What exactly does she think she’s here for?_ I wonder before pulling my hand away, “Whoa, if you’re seeing someone, I don’t want to-“

“Going on dates isn’t the same as seeing someone. He was a jerk. It’s what I do, go on dates thinking I can trust someone enough to let them in… then swerve, get scared and never call them again.”

“Oh…” Now I feel even more like a fuckhead about leaving her in Center City, but I did get a call back, kind of. “So I guess I feel pretty good that here you are with me for a second time,” I tell her as I lead her into the house.

“If that’s how you want to look at it,” she says, smiling. The very first thing she notices is the candle burning on the counter. “This place is nice, so let’s leave a candle unattended…” She rolls her eyes in my direction. “God, you blue canaries can be really dumb sometimes.”

“And of course, a whacker will think of nothing but ‘what in this room will cause a fire?’”

She laughs and makes herself comfortable at the kitchen table, not venturing too far into the house. We make small talk for a while with Divorce Court playing in the background, just for some white noise and to help facilitate conversation if we both fall flat. For the most part though, Katniss sits at the kitchen table, flipping through the file Abernathy left for me.

“Want a beer?” I ask after she drains her water.

Katniss shakes her head no, “I can’t drink,” I notice that she says can’t, not don’t. “Don’t worry, I’m not an alcoholic. Have a beer if you want.”

“Why can’t you drink, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Katniss sighs while I grab her water glass and refill it. “You know how sometimes firefighters come out of buildings looking like they fell in a pricker bush?” she asks.

I snort, “I didn’t know that a city girl knew what those were.”

“Shut up. Well, the used-up sharps… the reused sharps… they usually don’t go through bunker gear unless you hit them just right or fall on ‘em hard, but things happen. I know guys with HIV, shit, I’ve never heard of…”

“What did you get?”

“Hepatitis-C? I got tested really early and they’re kind of nuking it, the side-effects of treatment even went away.”

No one ever really pays attention to the risk first responders live with.  In fact, I’ve never even thought that getting diseases from needles was such an every day problem for these guys. “That’s good, I guess?” I ask as I pop the cap off a Yuengling.

“Yeah… so… I’m not going to beat around the bush. Please explain to me why you-“

“Ended our date so suddenly?” I ask, returning to the kitchen table and handing Katniss her water.

She reaches out and clutches it in both hands. “Yeah…” she tells me with her shoulders slumped.

“My partner’s girlfriend was hit by a drunk driver and he was in bad shape. I couldn’t even think, I just knew at the time I had to protect my partner.”

Katniss looks up, “Oh my god, I’m such an asshole. I was so pissed at you and…” She buries her face in her hands, her tan cheeks growing bright and rosy. “I’m such an ass.” I nod, but can only notice how cute she is when she blushes.

I reach across the table and rub up and down her arm. “You didn’t know. I was going to text you or call you, but I was so embarrassed that I just bolted. Then my partner told me to grow a set, but…”

“I tried to assault you with a pike pole… how is she?”

“She’s probably going to have a bit of a limp for the rest of her life and she’s down a spleen, but she’s alive. She’s getting out of the hospital next Tuesday, we hope.”

She brings her hands down from her face which I immediately take. Upon closer inspection, I notice numerous little pink scars dotting her fingers and wrists. “Was this from a fire?” I ask, letting my fingers roam up her wrists, the tips of my fingers barely grazing the gauze protecting her wrist. I fear the answer but my heart needs to know.

“Two weeks ago, in one of the arson fires. My glove got stuck and a bit of my wrist was exposed. It was barely second degree,” she says, waving it off.

Just knowing she was hurt makes my heart ache. “I’m sorry…”

Katniss closes her hands around my wrists so we’re linked together. “Don’t be, it’s an occupational hazard. Have you ever been shot at?” I nod in response, not wanting to relive that day. “See, you don’t like seeing my burn, I don’t like even thinking about someone shooting at you,” she tells me, looking up through her lashes. “You’re kind of cute… it would be a shame if…”

I don’t know what force compels me to do so, but I get up from my seat, still holding onto her. She meets me half way, our lips making contact as we lean over the table.

It’s simple and sweet, a promise between two protectors. We may not be able to keep each other out of danger, but we’ll hold the other in our hearts.

Katniss pulls away and there’s that blush again. She follows my hand with her eyes as I tuck some of her hair behind her ear.

We end up watching a movie, which to Katniss is code for ‘don’t talk during the fucking movie, I like this scene.’ She does, however, lie down on the couch with me and allow my hand to sneak under her shirt to feel her smooth skin.

“Stop,” she giggles as my fingers brush along her side, causing her to squirm a little.

“I’m sorry, I’ve never seen a woman so into _The Life of Brian_.”

Katniss squirms again because I hit that sensitive spot on her side, “He’s not the Messiah! He’s a very naughty boy!” she tells me before rolling to face me now that the movie is over.

“Want to get something to eat? Or I could cook?”

“You can cook?” she asks while moving my arm to use it as a pillow.

I kiss her forehead. “Yes, I can cook, but I haven’t been grocery shopping in like a week. Come on, get your good heels back on,” I tell her, reaching behind and spanking her. 


	4. They fuck in this chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://s1179.photobucket.com/user/rosalinabambina/media/Inferno-banner_FalafelWaffel_zpsacd9ad41.jpg.html)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got your attention right?  
> Thank you Chelzie for fixing my errors big and confusing, and Sassyeverlarking and Fairmellarky for helping me buff out the dents.   
> ONWARD!

_Katniss_

Peeta drops me off at my building at close to eleven. We actually spend most of the night talking about the arson case he been roped into helping with, while I sit in his lap and slowly eat a giant bag of M&M’s we picked up at Wawa on our way back from this Irish tavern he insisted we visit.

There’s technical jargon he’s not used to. Investigating big cases is something he’s been trained to do, but unfortunately he doesn’t have the background in fire science that I do. Nor can he tell the difference between an engine company and a ladder company, which is something we’re going to have to work through together. I leave him with notes on a few key terms.

I still think I can open up to this man, that I can let him into my life. I just have to work up to it.

I’m stuck in an internal debate on whether or not to invite him upstairs. Not for sex, just sleep. Watching _The Life of Brian_  in his arms was heaven. I haven’t felt that relaxed in ages. Even now as my back is against the wall and the stairs up to my apartment are oh-so-close, I can’t help but debate. Even as our tongues wrestle for dominance and I hold him tight to me, I wonder when I should tell him I’ll see him later.

“Please come upstairs…” I whisper, not thinking. “Not for sex,” I clarify, “I just…  my apartment’s so much closer to your work and…”

“I don’t have a uniform… Even if I stay here, I’d have to go back.”

I sigh. “Yeah, you need that…” He kisses me goodnight for the final time, the taste of cigarettes and Coke thick on his tongue.

We spend almost every night off we have like this, caught in a war with ourselves on whether or not we should take things to the next level. The debate gets even harder when my next blood test comes back clean. I’m free of Hep-C. I’m one of the lucky ones; though to be safe, I’m finishing treatment.

But I’m clean.

We start spending time with his partner, Finnick, and his girlfriend, Annie, who usually leaves the house in a wheel chair since her right leg is completely in plaster and held together with pins.

Peeta and Finnick joke that Annie is a ‘quiet riot’. She’s soft spoken with a sense of humor that makes normal minded people run. She works dispatch, so she’s heard it all.

My favorite game to play with her while our boyfriends drink is to give her a word and for her to recall a call she’s received including that word. The only rule is that I can’t use the word ‘hamster,’ because she’s “had too many of those.”

“Um…” I spin my phone idly on the heavily varnished table while thinking, “How about… alligator…”

Annie thinks for a second while sipping on her Coke. “Oh, two summers ago this guy in South Philly was out walking his alligator and it bit some woman.”

I cringe.

“Don’t worry, the woman got her leg back. I mean, I don’t think it ripped it off, but I  _think_  she still hobbled away from… I think the gator’s name was George. He lived in the man’s basement.”

I shrug, “I stay out of South Philly for the most part. Too hit or miss.”

“At least you’re not Peeta,” Finnick teases, “Had to go find the biggest population of the fucking Irish to piss around with.”

Peeta rolls his eyes. “I’m sorry if I’m attracted to my people; they’re yours, too.”

Finnick shrugs. “Ah, but the difference is that I chose to live in Kensington, where any Saturday or Sunday at two fifteen am, you can look out the window and see the zombie apocalypse or a bunch of drunk idiots trying to find their way home. I can never tell.”

Two large hands land on my shoulder. “Hey, stranger,” Gale greets from behind. I turn around quickly in my seat and hug him.

“Hey, what are you doing having a social life?” I ask, looking for Johanna, Bristel, and Thom, who appear behind him.

“We all have the night off,” he says and kisses the side of my head.

Peeta reacts immediately, resting his hand on my thigh as if I’d start making out with Gale right here.

I sit back down in my seat like a human. “Everyone, this is Finnick, Annie, and you know my boyfriend, Peeta. Guys this is Gale, Thom, Bristel, and Johanna. They run with 29.”

To be honest, just seeing the testosterone filled tension between Gale and Peeta, I had good reason to be nervous about the four of them joining us. But after moving closer to Peeta so we could make room in our long booth and also so Annie doesn’t get her busted leg bumped, everything works out. Peeta throws his arm around me and when not talking, he keeps his head resting against mine. It’s possessive, but kind of hot.

I rub my hand up and down his thigh as he plays with my hair until finally I feel that itch in the back of my brain. “I’m going to go outside and pollute the air,” I announce, taking Peeta with me.

I know what I want, but I don’t know how to ask for it. We sit in silence and I shift uncomfortably every few seconds.

How hard is it to say, _“I want to fuck you, let’s stop at Walgreens and pick up a pack of condoms on the way home?”_

Peeta takes my nervous shifting as me getting cold in the early fall chill and pulls me into his lap. “What are you thinking?” he asks.

“That I want to go home and fuck you; we should stop at a drug store on the way home and pick up condoms!” God dammit, Johanna’s bluntness is like a disease. It’s barely nine o’clock, way too early to end a night at the bar.

Peeta taps his chin. “I’m going to tell them you’re feeling sick and that I’m taking you home.” He hands me his cigarette, “Hold this for me, I’ll be back in like two minutes.”

I take a deep breath when he’s gone I still feel that tingle; that want, that desire.

“They say feel better soon, and maybe you should quit smoking.” Peeta and I took the El to the bar, no matter how ill advised that is on any night. When the closest door to the train opens, there’s a giant vomit stain trapped in the grooves of the floor that looks like a graph.

“Appropriate. It must be showing the time spent on anything SEPTA and the crazy people you come across,” he says as we quickly move back a car and away from the vomit. Other than feeling a little nauseated from either nerves or the impromptu ‘graph,’ there’s no interesting people watching.

After a quick train ride and a stop at the CVS two blocks from my apartment, I’m fumbling to get my key into the lock while Peeta’s hands rest on my hips. He assaults my neck with kisses and love bites that make it very awkward to be wearing a skirt. Finally I get in, but there’s another obstacle - the stairs and locks on the front door, but Peeta’s not concerned with this. He lets me lead, but when I stumble, he catches me before I crash, keeping his hands on my hips so I’m stuck against the wall.

“Peeta?” I look over my shoulder into his smoldering eyes. He kisses my cheek before his lips settle on my neck and his right hand travels to the front of my skirt. My body knows what my mind wants and my left foot steps down to the next stair as he uses the side of his index finger to rub my clit through layers of skirt and underwear.

“Peeta, someone will hear…” I whisper as he lifts up the front of my skirt and his hand dives under my panties.

“Do you want me to stop?” he whispers in my ear, just as his finger glances over my clit.

Honestly, I don’t. Between his body pressed against mine and knowing just how to tease me, I’ve never been this wet. “No…” I choke out, “Please, just don’t stop…” It’s been so long since anyone’s touched me like this.

I yelp in shock when I feel his middle finger inside me and Peeta chuckles. “Babe, you’re going to have to be a little quieter…” he whispers huskily. God these walls are bare, made of brick and plaster, nothing to absorb the sounds of my moans.

I’m forced to bite my lip to muffle my cries as I grip the banister for dear life while he goes about finger fucking me into oblivion.

When I come, I don’t hold it in; I couldn’t give a fuck who hears. Mayor Nutter could hear my moans from his office in fucking City Hall and I wouldn’t give a shit. My legs quiver and knees buckle as every inch of me starts to tingle.

“I’ve been wondering what you’d sound like since the moment I laid eyes on you…” he tells me honestly as I fix my skirt and attempt to catch my breath.

I take his hand. “Since you got to satisfy your curiosity, it’s my turn.”

I lead him up the rest of the stairs and somehow get the lock and deadbolt open on the third try each. Peeta’s hands never leave my hips. “Is your sister here?” he asks.

I shake my head no and before I can turn around to face him or flick on a light switch, my skirt is on the ground as well as my black underwear.

I blush and cross my arms to shield the apex of my legs from his view. “Aww, why are you doing that?” he asks after turning on the lights. I take a step back to get out of my clothes but my foot gets caught in my skirt and I end up on my back on the hardwood. “See? That’s a better view?” Peeta says, trying not to laugh as I lay on the ground spread eagle. “Are you okay?”

I could either be embarrassed, or I could take advantage of this situation. “Get down here…”

Peeta’s eyes grow dark and he pulls his black t-shirt over his head, throwing it away while unbuckling his belt. I’ve never seen him shirtless before and it’s everything I hoped for, with the added surprise of the dove outline holding an intricate claddagh ring on his chest.

“Peace, love, and friendship… you fucking hippie,” I tease as he kneels down beneath my legs once ridding himself of his pants and underwear. He sets the little cardboard box with the condoms beside me.

“And loyalty,” he says as I sit up and take off my shirt. Peeta reaches behind me to unhook my bra. “There, now we’re even…” he says, backing up a little to give me the once over. “God… you’re gorgeous, Katniss.”

I blush and try to return the favor, but my eyes settle in one spot. Right where his rock hard cock seems to be staring at me.

Peeta reaches for the little blue box, but I distract him after licking the palm of my hand and wrapping my hand around his length. He sits there slack jawed while up on his knees, his eyes closed tight. Every so often he lets out a small moan before regaining composure. “Babe, you have to stop if we’re going to use these…” he tells me, shaking the box. I let go and fake a pout as he tears off one foil package. It rips into the middle one. “Guess that one’s going first,” Peeta grumbles.

When he’s ready, Peeta grips my knees and pushes my legs back so I’m completely splayed. “Ready?” he asks. I nod, not breaking eye contact as he presses into me.

“Oh, God…” I moan, trying to grip on to the corner of the area rug poking at my back. This is something I’ve missed in my almost year long vow of celibacy. Peeta drops down so he’s almost lying on top of me, but supported by his arms so we can kiss as he slowly thrusts into me. I start cringing after a few thrusts, and Peeta frames my face with his hands.

“Babe, take a deep breath… you’ve gotta relax…” he tells me, stroking my cheeks as I unwind, not realizing just how tense I had made myself. He doesn’t move but still I can feel him inside me. At first even that makes me tense, but with each breath, every inch of me loosens up. “Ya good?” he asks after I start getting used to the sensation of being filled.

I nod. “Yeah, I’m good.” I’m good on the floor, on my bed, then again on the kitchen table after Peeta and I decide we need a midnight snack.

* * *

“Did I move too quickly?” I ask while watching Prim hose the vomit out of the back of her ambulance. The smell is horrible, but apparently we’re lucky. E. coli usually ‘makes it fire out of both ends,’ as Prim says.

“No, but I think the kitchen table was a little… excessive.”

“They were really good nachos,” I tell her.

Prim looks up from her work and wipes her brow. “How often does he cook for you?”

I shrug. “Like… five nights a week?” I tell her as she hops out of the back of the ambulance.

Prim yawns, as she’s just about to get off a twelve hour shift and go home to sleep. “Well, poor you, you have a guy who can cook and is willing to fuck your brains out,” Prim teases. “Now that I’ve just scrubbed all the E. coli out of that fucking thing, I’m going to go home and shower, then fall asleep cuddling my cat. Be safe, don’t talk to strangers,” she says while patting my cheek and yawning.

It’s October now; Peeta and I have been seeing each other for just over five weeks. Not long enough to make any major developments in a relationship, but long enough to make a comfortable routine. A routine I don’t want to lose or really alter, but I’m afraid us having sex might have fucked everything up.

I have the overnight shift and as the evening turns into the obnoxiously late night, I find I can’t sleep. Something feels off - the arsonist hasn’t fucked anyone’s day up in a while and we know the city is overdue.

I toss and turn on my uncomfortable cot while everyone else on duty seems to sleep peacefully. Can’t they feel it in the air? That electricity?

The storm comes quickly, as they tend to do. First the alarm rings, a fire five blocks from here, if that. I fumble with everything in the truck as I get ready for the call. First, I step into my boots and pants, but I put my arm through the wrong part of the suspender. I can’t snap my clips closed on my jacket, my air pack gets stuck in the seat, and my strap folds over so I can’t pull them tight right away.

“You’re some kind of hot mess,” Gale sighs, patting my shoulder. I pull my nomex hood down just far enough to get my mask on right.

 _Fuck, are we going in there?_  I ask myself as I feel the hot wind coming from the building. Fires cause their own weather; hot, windy, occasional rain of siding, roofing materials, and broken glass. The arsonist has moved from abandoned buildings to shops around the city. So now, instead of a basically empty building filling with smoke and the sparse contents bursting into flames, we have tight corners and ample fuel for the fire, especially in the packed little mom and pop store targeted tonight.

We’re not supposed to assume we’re heading into an arson fire, but we can’t help that the flames threaten to melt off our faces and we can smell nothing but gasoline.

“Ready, Catnip?” Gale asks me, handing me the hose. “Ladder’s already done their search, we’ve gotta do our thing.”

“But you always lead,” I tell him. I honestly want to run, because something bad is going to happen in that building. I can’t shake the feeling. After my measly almost nine years fighting fires, I’ve learned to trust my gut.

“Yeah, but it’s your turn now. I’ve got your back, Katniss.” He squeezes my shoulder trying to reassure me, but nothing is going to shake this feeling.

We’re not immune to the heat in a burning building. Almost immediately, I feel like it’s August again and I’m soaked with sweat. I press on though, because there isn’t really a choice trying to soak everything and snuff out the fire and our only source of light. We can’t really see anyway, as the smoke is too thick.  

It’s a chunk of ceiling that does it. First the plaster cracks and falls, setting off a chain reaction of falling shelves falling and breaking glass. I immediately know something’s wrong - Gale’s constant presence behind me is missing and the hose is completely snagged.

“Gale?” I call, trying to turn in the cramped haze. For the first time, the radio is silent. My terrified call shuts everyone the fuck up. The only noise I can hear is the crackling of flames and Gale’s damn PASS screaming at me once he’s been still for long enough. Finally, I feel a rubber boot under my gloves.

 “Help, we need help! I have one down,” I call through the radio.

“Where are you?” a voice asks.

“Just follow the damn hose line,” I snap. “Please, just hurry.”

I don’t know what’s pinning Gale or if he can even hear me, the smoke is so thick I can barely see six inches in front of my face. All I know is that he’s not moving, and his low pressure bell is going off.

“We’re here,” Johanna calls from the other side of the obstruction.

It takes Thom, Johanna, Bristel, and I to dig him out of the pile of rubble and kindling; everything after that is a blur.

Paramedics rush us the second we get Gale on the ground. The first thing to go is his air pack and mask.

Johanna and Bristel hold me back as I scream for him the second I see just how blue his lips are.

* * *

_Peeta_

Katniss calls me at four in the morning in hysterics. “Whoa, Katniss, calm down. Take a deep breath.”

“Gale, he… I wasn’t paying attention and… I’m at Temple… I don’t know what to do.”

I kick the sheets off me. “I’m on my way. Just take a deep breath, Katniss. Everything will be okay,” I tell her.

Katniss is grimy and sweaty when I get to the hospital. She’s pacing outside with this completely vacant look on her face and a cigarette between her fingers. “Hey…” I mumble into her sweaty hair after pulling her into a hug.

Her shaky hands hold onto my jacket and don’t let go as she sobs. “His parents have a priest in there,” she whispers before sniffling, “It crushed his ribs and suffocated him. They got his heart beating, but he’s on life support and…“ Her face contorts in pain, like someone is pressing a hot knife into her abdomen. She hugs her self and hunches over and screams. There’s nothing I can say to make her pain go away. She’s been ripped open and left bare; at this point, only time will ease the pain.

Katniss can’t even bring herself to enter his room in the hospital as everyone goes in and out to say goodbye. Finally, when there’s no one left, she grabs my hand. “Please…” She clings to me like a scared child, “Help me…” I nod and wrap my free arm around her.

She’s like a newborn fawn on drunken legs as I guide her into the room. Katniss jerks away from me once we’re over the threshold. The easy part is over now that she’s in the room. Katniss drops to her knees in at his side. “This should be me,” she tells him, “You made me lead so you could watch my back, but I’m also supposed to have yours. This should be me, Gale… you fucking idiot, I should be in this bed!”

I stand guard at the door as she pours out her emotions. She screams at a shell of a human for a good half hour, about how they’ve always had each other’s backs. That she never went into a building without him. How he’s been her brother for as long as she can remember.

Once they take him off life support, Gale passes peacefully overnight surrounded by his family, friends, and his crewmates, who were basically family anyways.

Finally, when the sky turns grey and an icy rain pushes the city into a quiet submission, we leave the hospital. Katniss puts on my sweatshirt to hide her face. It isn’t every day that a firefighter dies, so every news station has swarmed the hospital and in her Engine 29 t-shirt, she’s a big target. We still catch their attention, but we’re in the car before they can do any major damage or get anything besides a few pictures.

“Where are we going?” she sniffles as I drive north instead of east to her apartment.

“My place. I don’t want you sleeping alone.” That and with the influx of Gale’s family in town not wanting to spend the night at his place, Gale’s younger brothers are spending time at Katniss’ apartment at Prim’s insistence. She took one look at him in the hospital and broke down after seeing the younger version of her best friend.

“I’m not tired…” she whispers. “But can we stop at my place to get a change of clothes?”

I make the first right I can. She piles more clothes than she needs for one night in her bag as she moves like a zombie, shoving sweats and jeans and hoodies in her bag before grabbing her laptop and cell phone charger.

The first thing she does when we get back to my place is take an hour long shower, where she screams and punches the wall several times before idly walking around in nothing but a towel, sniffling occasionally.

“Want something to eat?” I ask. Finnick and Haymitch are at the scene of the fire and understandably pissed that I called off today, but I have no choice.

She shakes her head no. “Where did I put my bag?” she asks.

“On the bed. Get changed and come watch a movie with me.”

We’re back in the same spot as our second first date, only this time she’s facing me and latched on so tight I can’t move, but she sleeps away the afternoon and into the evening. Finally, I carry her into the bedroom and we sleep away the night, but not the pain.

I come to learn that Katniss doesn’t like anyone seeing her emotions. She spends the next few days playing phone tag with the Hawthornes, getting ready for the funeral completely stoic until she thinks no one is looking and she breaks down again.

Gale’s death is felt through the entire brotherhood of firefighters. Throughout the city, flags at fire houses fly at half-staff leading up to the funeral.

Katniss is asked to speak at the funeral. She hasn’t gone home and to be honest, I don’t want her to. A pile of newspapers has accumulated on my kitchen table. The first one, from the morning after, has a picture of the blaze that took Gale’s life; the second is from when I led Katniss out of the hospital. Big and bold on the front page of the  _Philadelphia Inquirer_  is Katniss holding onto me for dear life as I guide her away from the circus, but the only thing I can see is her quivering lips.

The ceremony is crowded as firefighters from across the area and even the country flood the city to pay tribute to a fallen hero. Katniss perseveres through her quick speech, but just barely. After she tells the large congregation about Gale’s service and hurries from the podium, she breaks again, this time in public for the world to see and where I can’t shield her from prying eyes.

It’s a cold and rainy when Gale is finally put into the ground. It feels like thousands of firefighters gather in the rainy cemetery. Through the speakers on Engine 29, as loud as can be and cutting straight to the bone, is his last call. The dispatcher calls for him several times before they finally ask for a moment of silence.

A minute or two later, she speaks up again. “Thank you, Gale Hawthorne, for your years of service both in the department and in the community. Your sacrifice will not be forgotten.” I hold on to Katniss during the entire thing as she stares at the ground, not speaking or blinking.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Chelzie for polishing this up! I'll get that epilogue written... eventually. 
> 
> This is the second to last chapter before the epilogue/ scene I wanted to write this whole damn time but I had to build up to it thus the 6 chapters preceding it.

_Peeta_

It isn’t a big secret that she isn’t handling the death very well, but after a few days she’s back to work, even responding to calls. But other than the basic needs for survival, Katniss isn’t living. She picks at her food and barely sleeps; although she doesn’t cry anymore, at least not in front of anyone.

We do make a break in the case, though; it’s nothing huge, except for a grainy photograph of a small, red-headed woman leaving the general store where Gale died. The photograph is plastered on every window, every news station, and in the papers, too; it’s everywhere, but no one comes forward.

Katniss comes home one day holding a case of water. “Can we stay at my place?” she asks, “I need to be able to get to the station easily tonight.”

Hurricane Sandy is supposed to be crazy. The city is already preparing to go into a state of emergency and even though Katniss lives close to the Delaware, which is expected to make its way into the city in some spots, she needs to be where she’s the most useful.

“Yeah, I might have to pull Finnick out of his bunker if the power goes out for too long.”

“Eww, just remember your gun so you’re not stuck driving back here.”

“Yes, mother,” I tease as I put a uniform into my overnight bag. “Speaking of which, my parents were asking if maybe you’d want to come up and visit for Thanksgiving?”

Katniss looks down at the ground and shrugs. “You actually want to take me to meet your family?” she asks in disbelief.

I smile and throw my duffel bag over my shoulder. “Well, so far you’ve proven that you’re not sociopathic, you’re intelligent, you can be sophisticated when you choose to be, you have your shit together, and you’re gorgeous… yeah, that sounds exactly like the woman I want to bring home to meet my Mom and Dad.”

Katniss shifts her weight from one foot to the other, finally looking up at me. “You know I don’t leave the city easily.”

I groan, “I know, I tried to get you into Chestnut Hill and it was like I threw you into the Schuylkill.”

The wind has already picked up when we make our way to Katniss’ apartment. “Wow, so you do live here,” Prim jokes while stuffing her face with Herr’s chips. A strong gust of wind rattles the building. “Jesus, fuck… And I have to work in two hours.”

“You’re not staying here?” Katniss asks, concerned.

Prim shakes her head. “No, and I doubt you’ll be here for long. Let’s be real, the transformers around the city are bound to blow the second they hear a storm’s coming.”

Katniss groans. “But those calls are so boring. The fucking cops can do it,” she elbows me. “You guys are pros at setting up police lines and telling people to stay back. Because once PECO pulls the plug on those things, boom, fire’s gone.”

“Because we’ll all be busy making sure idiots stop being idiots for a day or so until everything blows over,” I tell Katniss, patting her head.

It’s a busy windy night throughout the entire city. At six am, when it starts to sound like the building is coming down and Katniss and I finally find the time to sleep, my phone rings. “Yeah?” I yawn after answering. I roll over to paw for Katniss, who is still sound asleep.

“Hey, you want to get out of bed and help make sure people don’t go looting once the wind stops?”

I kiss Katniss on the back of the head. I don’t need to wake her for this. “Yeah, I’ll get there…”

* * *

_Katniss_

“Isn’t this… PECO’s, or Philadelphia’s job?” Bristel groans as we clear a fallen oak from the front driveway of the fire station. The power is out across the city; only a few isolated areas have power, including the hospitals and anything needed in an emergency situation, which for us includes the Wawa down the block along with everything in that general area.

From what we’ve heard through our sister stations, anywhere close to water is under about two feet of it. Other than the blackout, there’s just disgruntled chaos as people leave their homes only to find the roads blocked by trees that have been ripped from the ground.

“Ow! Fuck, Johanna, stop that!”

“Some people pay good money to get beaten by leaves!” she retorts before continuing to smack Thom’s ass with a mass of tree branches. We’re almost clear, which is good, because according to Prim, the ambulance is coming back a mess.

“Yeah, at spas! And they pay hot chicks to do it!”

No one moves for a few seconds before she whacks Thom with another branch. “Ass…” she grumbles.

My phone starts ringing. Peeta texted me earlier that he would call me when he got off his shift and tell me what the plan is, so I answer without looking. “Hey baby, I miss you,” I greet.

“Katniss…” It’s not Peeta, it’s Finnick. “I’m coming to pick you up. Whatever you’re doing right now, it’s not important.” I watch the white ambulance back into the driveway and Prim gets out with blood on her arms. Her face drains of color the second she sees me.

“What happened?” I ask as the guys on the truck with her try to stop me. “Finnick…” I round the corner of the truck. Bloody gauze has been tossed in every corner. There’s a blood stain about the size of my head towards the middle and another towards the back, only this one is about the size of my hand. “Finnick, where’s Peeta?”

“Katniss, calm down. Take a deep breath,” It’s what Peeta tells me when ever I get tense.

“Finnick Odair, shut the fuck up! What happened?” I shriek.

“Hang up the phone and get in the fucking car, NOW!”

I grab the first hoodie I can to shield myself from the October chill once my body cools down. Finnick has the police cruiser blocking the driveway.

As I get in, I see blood in the creases of his hands. “There were these kids, breaking into a house. We went to stop them and they didn’t hesitate, they just shot!” Finnick adjusts his white knuckle grip on the steering wheel, “Peeta took two in the vest, one in the leg and another in the gut.”

“It’s a bulletproof vest; what good is it if he still got hit!”

Finnick stops at a red light, and gives me this icy cold stare. “It’s a vest, not a fucking force field. Would you rather he got shot in the heart or lungs?”

“I would rather he not be shot at all!”

The light takes too long for Finnick’s taste; he hits the switch for the Opticon and we have green lights up to Temple.

Finnick gets out of the car right away, but I hesitate. Last time I was here, my best friend died. Now, my boyfriend is fighting for his life.

Finnick opens the door for me. “Katniss?” I unbuckle my seatbelt, and he helps me out of the car before grabbing my face between his hands. “I know you don’t have many good memories of this place, but there’s a man in there who loves you too damn much to die.”

I pull back. “He doesn’t…” I shake my head no. I’m too closed off, I have next to no personality, and right now, I might be too mentally unstable to function.

Finnick grabs me by the arm. “If he didn’t, he would shut up about you every once in a while, or he would have told me to call his parents before he told me to get you when they put him into the ambulance.”

I wipe the tears from my cheeks as Finnick pulls me in for a hug. “What if it’s too late?” I sob.

Finnick pats my hair, trying to soothe me, but the stone in my stomach is too large. “He’s too stubborn to do something like that…” He’s right; Peeta’s stubbornness lasts six hours in surgery. During that time, Finnick and I are joined by Peeta’s Mom and Dad, as well as his two brothers.

“Finnick, there’s blood on your hands…” I whisper in the quiet waiting room. Mrs. Mellark paces back and forth every so often, making me nervous. I have to sneak out for half a pack of cigarettes before I even feel calm enough to face her.

“I’ll get it later…” he mumbles, checking his phone for the hundredth time, which is plugged in and charging.

“What do you keep checking for?”

Finnick looks up at me. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re nosy?” He sinks down in the chair, “Right after getting here, Haymitch texted me. That woman who’s been setting the fires?”

“Yeah?”

“A student at Drexel came forward a day ago, right before the storm hit saying he thinks it’s his chemistry professor. Haymitch got a warrant - it was where Peeta and I were heading to before we saw the B and E.”

“And?”

“She confessed.”

It’s a temporary relief. I didn’t even know they were close to breaking the case. Peeta knew better than to mention arson around me. “They better get her for murder,” I snap.

“Hopefully… but you should go and talk to Peeta’s family. You’re his girlfriend and they’ve never met you.”

Why can’t I just do anything normally? Meet a guy, fall in love, meet his parents, maybe get married, and pop out a few hell raisers.

No… I have to meet the guy, hate the guy for a month, meet him again, slowly open up to him, having him fuck my brains out, have him watch me breakdown, and now this.

I suck it up and take an empty seat next to his mother. The five of us make very little small talk. I learn that they live in Levittown; his mother is a realtor, his father is a teacher, and his oldest brother followed in his father’s footsteps. The middle Mellark boy is a stay-at-home dad with three girls.

I try to recall their names as we sit and wait for any news. I know Peeta’s mother is Siobhan, his father (I think) is Logan; the oldest brother is Cian, the middle is Oisin.

_Can you get any more fucking Irish?_

When the sun has already set, a doctor finally comes to talk to the Mellarks. I stay behind until Finnick pulls me from my seat up towards the doctor. “He’s in critical condition, but we were observing him for a few minutes after surgery and after the second cardiac arrest…“

Logan puts his hand up to stop the doctor, “Wait, _second_?”

Doctor Aurelius nods slowly. “He lost a lot of blood, sir,” Finnick’s rust tinted hands and the back of the M-ICU come to mind. “But we got the two bullets out and repaired the damage. His vitals are getting stronger and if everything goes as planned, the anesthesia should be wearing off shortly if you want to go back and see him.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://imgur.com/Uvkevn0)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, totes forgot to put this here.
> 
> Final chapter of Inferno before the epilogue, which is coming... Slowly.
> 
> Thank you Chelzie for polishing this up, and Ro Nordmann for the banner.

_Peeta_

Everything is dark… Or maybe it's bright. No, it's grey, everything is just grey.

I do know one thing… I have to piss.

And I don't anymore.

My gut feels like it's on fire, then it's numb, then it's on fire again.

" _Here it's safe, here it's warm…" a soft voice sings while my left hand starts to tingle. "Here the daisies guard you from every harm…"_  It's Katniss' soft, mournful voice. As she sings, her voice cracks and she clears her throat _. "Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true, here is the place where I love you…"_

I curl my fingers around something warm. "Peeta? Are you awake?"

I nod my head slowly. "You'd better watch those words, missy…" I croak.

There's an added pressure on my chest and then moisture as I hear the all too familiar sound of Katniss' tears. "I was so afraid…I thought I'd lost you, too…"

I finally find it in me to open my eyes. "Shhh… don't cry. It's going to take a lot more than this for you to get rid of me."

She looks up, her eyes puffy and red rimmed. "Who says I want to?"

I smile, "No one… Because I'm not giving you up, ever."

She wipes her eyes on the back of her hand and tries to smile.

I learn quickly that there's nothing worse than Dad tears; I discover this when my father comes in and starts sobbing the second he lays eyes on me. "Fuck, I must look like shit."

"Peeta," my mother scolds, "Language."

"Ma, I was shot, I've earned a few…" I try to pull myself up but everything in my lower body says no.

"Peeta, use the remote," Katniss says, handing me a plastic corded thing. "And the one on the other side is for the TV."

I realize someone important is missing. "Where's Finnick? Is he in one of these beds?" My heart monitor starts beeping erratically.

"Finnick is at home with Annie," Katniss tells me. "She wanted to get here but she can't drive, and the entire city is basically shut down."

"Yeah, you should have seen Dad trying to figure out how to get into Philly with all the highways shut down. You couldn't have picked a better time to get shot?"

"Cian!" Siobhan scolds.

I'm the only one who seems to be laughing at this. The entire room has decided to be PC all of a sudden.

Everyone but Katniss leaves around eleven at night. Since I'm so fucked up, the hospital is taking sympathy on the poor girl and letting her stay by my side as long as she sees fit.

"How are you feeling?" she asks with her head back on my chest.

"I have a plastic tube in my dick and I piss and shit in bags, and there's a thing in my nose. I can't hold you because, well… I was shot."

"That good, huh?" she asks.

I start to play with her loose hair. "Well, I have you here, so I can't really complain…"

"Shut up…" she sighs, "And get some sleep. I'm going to head home soon to shower and cry in a corner."

I grip her shoulder tightly. "Katniss, don't cry. I'm fine, just a few extra holes in me."

Katniss sighs, "I thought I'd lost you, Peeta. I was sure that you were gone… that it would be Gale all over again. I already lost my best friend, I can't lose you, too…"

"And you won't. I'm too stubborn to die," I promise.

Katniss sighs, "Yeah, Finnick said that, too."

* * *

"Man, you look like shit…" Finnick has never been the best with greetings.

I roll my eyes. "Shut up. If you were in this bed, I'd at least come up with something mushy to say."

Finnick crosses his arms over his chest. He's in street clothes, which might be a good sign. "So…" I start.

"Haymitch got her; she confessed to everything and they found a partial print at the fire that killed that Hawthorne guy-"

"His name was Gale. Don't ever call him 'that Hawthorne guy' in front of Katniss."

Finnick nods. "Right, sorry. But the print matches her."

"So who is she?" I ask.

"A fox faced little nobody that likes to watch everyone scramble."

"And the two kids that were shooting at  _me_  because your redheaded ass must repel bullets?" I ask, honestly dreading the answer.

"Well, the one isn't going to walk out of the hospital on two legs. The other's probably going to have a limp for the rest of his life and has lost the use of one of his lungs."

I nod and look out the window. I didn't kill. Thank fucking god, I didn't kill.

* * *

It takes me almost a month to get out of the hospital. It's a month of agonizing physical therapy that is put off once an infection strikes that almost does me in. It starts a few days after I wake up, after my family heads home, feeling safe that my guts aren't about to spill out everywhere.

Katniss first notices that something's wrong when she kisses my forehead after Maury finishes for the day. "Peeta, you're burning up…" she tells me, pressing the back of her hand to my face. "How are you feeling?"

"Kind of groggy…" I tell her, tugging on her hand. I've been trying to get her to climb into the bed with me all damn day. It's wide enough to maybe fit the both of us. I just want her in my arms again.

Katniss tugs away. "I'm going to go and get the nurse. Okay?"

I sigh. "I'll be here."

The nurse staring at my stitches leads to a doctor staring at them, which leads to a cocktail of medications to stop the infection from killing me, five days of high fever, aches everywhere and Katniss not being allowed in the room because of my 'fragile state'.

I know I have to walk out of this hospital for her. She's already said goodbye to someone here, and I can't make her 0-2.

Finally, I'm released the day before Thanksgiving. Katniss and I decided that at least for the next few weeks, it would be easier for her to just live with me. I need help getting around and I can't get into her apartment until I ditch my crutches.

"So my parents are coming up for Christmas," Katniss tells me while rubbing a damp washcloth across my bare back. I can't bathe or shower easily so we have to get creative. "If we can't have Christmas at my place, I was wondering if they could come here?"

Katniss has a shockingly gentle touch and is more attentive than I would have previously given her credit for. "Yeah, sure…" I smile, thinking of our first Christmas together. "Speaking of which, what do you want?"

Katniss kisses the top of my head. "You're already out of the hospital. I got what I wanted…"

I sigh, so she's one of  _those_. Impossible to shop for, won't tell me what she wants. "Fine, I'll ask Prim what to get you."

Katniss sighs and hands me the washcloth. "You stubborn ass," she tells me. "Wash your front, I'm going to get your legs…" I watch her with that determined look on her face. She bites her tongue while she thinks, even as she helps me stay clean.

She's sacrificing her time to care for me. Instead of an afternoon that could be spent on the couch, she's taking care of me. While I was in the hospital, she spent nights at my side instead of out with her friends. "Katniss, I love you," I blurt out, just as my eyes start watering.

Katniss looks up and smiles. "I know," she teases.

"Wait, how? Do I talk in my sleep?" I ask, because I've honestly been dreaming about her every night since August.

Katniss shakes her head no. "Finnick told me."

I sigh. "Of course he did…"

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Any questions, comments or concerns can be directed towards deliverustogirouxsalem.tumblr.com/ask or via fanmail.


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